Wonderwall
by Marasca
Summary: Derek and Mark take baby steps. Post S3 Oneshot.


_Well, I still haven't been able to bear writing anything directly Mer/Der after the finale (thanks, SHONDA), but this oneshot has been bouncing around in my head for awhile. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_and all the roads we have to walk along are winding  
and all the lights that lead us there are blinding  
there are many things that I would like to say to you    
but I don't know how_

Mark gently nudged open the trailer door without knocking. No point, really – he knew he wasn't welcome here.

Once inside, he squinted in the dark. He knew Derek was here; he hadn't been seen at the hospital for two days, and his cars sat undisturbed in the mud puddles out front. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness as he stepped further into the trailer, and he found Derek sitting on the floor in the kitchen, bottle of scotch resting between his legs.

Mark stood with his arms crossed, looking down at him. "Jesus, it smells like something died in here. What the hell are you doing?"

Derek didn't look up. "What does it look like I'm doing? You graduated from med school and you can't figure it out? I'm drinking. Drinking heavily, in the privacy of my own home. The key word being 'privacy' – as in leave me the fuck alone, Mark. Get out," he hissed as took a swig from the bottle and let it drop out of his hands back to the floor.

"This isn't a home, it's a tin can in the middle of the woods. This is pathetic. You don't drink alone, man. That's not you."

A disgusted chuckle escaped from Derek's lips. "Well, it is now," he whispered. "I'm different now."

"Where is she?" Mark asked, sliding down next to Derek on the floor and helping himself to the scotch.

"She's gone. She went on a honeymoon with Yang. It's over."

Mark winced as the scotch hit the back of his throat. "Over? Says who?"

"Meredith – that's who! She told everyone, Mark – didn't you hear?" Derek finally looked up, bitterness shining in his eyes. Mark had never seen him look so broken – not even that night in New York, the night that changed everything. "She stood on the damn altar in front of everyone and broke up with me."

Mark squinted back at Derek, challenging. "And you just accept that?"

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do, genius?" The bitterness seeped from Derek's eyes and coated his words. "And what would you know, anyways? Your entire life experience with love and heartbreak can be summed up in a Penthouse Forum column. Which perversely involves not only my ex-wife, but my sister, you asshole."

Mark's eyes opened wide in surprise. "OK, now that's just mean," he stammered. "Uh… who told you?"

Derek leaned his head back against the cabinet and exhaled loudly. "Told me what, Mark?"

"Told you I slept with… uh… your sister?" Mark picked up the bottle and knocked back another gulp. This wasn't quite the conversation he had been planning.

Derek jerked his head up, realization lighting up his face. "Jesus! You slept with more than one, didn't you? You don't know which one I know about, do you?"

"C'mon, man… this isn't about me…" Mark smiled weakly, hoping to change the subject.

"No – I'm right, aren't I?! Fine, prove me wrong. Tell me which sister you slept with," he sputtered.

"Derek…"

Derek turned to face Mark defiantly. "Which one, Mark?"

"Uhhhh… Kathleen?"

Derek rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle out of Mark's hands. "You asshole. If I weren't drunk I'd kick your sorry ass."

"Look, Derek - this isn't about Kathleen, and this isn't about Addison, or any other Shepherd women I… may have slept with." Mark cast a sidelong glance at Derek, half expecting a right hook to connect with his nose. "This is about you sitting here in this smelly sardine can feeling sorry for yourself and acting like a teenage girl instead of fighting like a man for what you want."

Derek jaw dropped, looking offended. "I am _not_ acting like a girl."

"Please. Look at yourself. Look around," Mark snorted, waving his arms at the mess. "You are sitting here in your underwear. There are three boxes worth of used Kleenex scattered around. And let's not even start on the shitty complaint-rock ballads you're playing. Pathetic. You're being a total pussy. Everything _you_ learned about love and heartache came right out of _Seventeen Magazine_ just like the rest of the Shepherd sisters."

Derek scrubbed his hand across his face in frustration and sighed deeply. "Mark, you don't know anything about this, so butt out."

Mark straightened up and grabbed Derek by the shoulders so he could look him in the eye. "You're right, man, I don't know anything about this. But I've seen the way you look at Grey. I've never felt that. Ever. Don't you realize how lucky you are? Don't you get it? Your life is something that most people dream about. Everything about you is charmed. You have the perfect family. You were the perfect student. You had the perfect wife, the perfect career in New York, the perfect house. I've watched you my whole life – I've watched you take it all for granted, and I _wanted_ it." Mark hesitated, taking a deep breath. "And I thought I got it – I got your wife. Hell, I even got your sisters. But even then, you walked away from it all because it wasn't actually you. You've found it here, in this godforsaken trailer with a skinny neurotic intern. I've just about given up trying to get what you have. But you can't. You can't give up, because if you do…" Mark's voice dropped down to a whisper, "then there's absolutely no hope for me."

Derek laughed bitterly. "Perfect? I am so goddamned sick of people expecting me to be perfect. I just want… her. And me." His voice broke as he struggled to form the words. "_Happy_."

"Then go get her! Make her see… make her talk. Get it right this time – don't walk away like before. If you give up now, everything you've been through to get here was a waste."

Derek sunk his face into his hands, defeated. "I don't even know where she is – I don't know where they went. She just left without saying anything."

"Well, that's where I come in handy. If she went on Yang's honeymoon, they're on Lanai," Mark grinned.

Derek slowly raised his head up, looking at Mark in disbelief.

Mark shrugged. "Burke and I talked about it at the bachelor party. There's only two hotels on the whole damn island – it shouldn't be hard to find her. Hell, just follow the trail of tequila bottles."

Derek waited one beat of a second as the news sunk in, then leaped to his feet. He grabbed the nearest duffle and started shoving clothes into it frantically, dumping the entire contents of his underwear drawer into the bag.

Mark jumped up and pulled the duffle out of Derek's hands. "C'mon, let's go - that's enough underwear. If you play your cards right, you won't be needing a lot of clothes. Get dressed, I'll take you to the airport."

Derek quickly dressed, grabbed his wallet and phone and headed out the door. As he reached for the doorknob, he turned back around. "Mark?"

Mark stopped abruptly and looked up. "Yeah?"

"Um… thanks."

Mark's eyes searched Derek's face hopefully as he tried to find the right words. He settled for a small smile and a nod.

"You know, this doesn't fix us," Derek said softly. "This doesn't make it all OK between you and me. Not yet."

Mark tried to keep the disappointment off of his face. "I know." He reached out and put his hand on Derek's shoulder. "I know."

_because maybe  
you're gonna be the one who saves me_


End file.
